This Means War!
by TWbasketcase
Summary: After bad memories and painful mishaps, three boys wreak total chaos on the school cafeteria. Includes flashback sequences to their infamous crimes. More detailed summary listed inside. Response to forums challenge.
1. Brian, Boats, and Cheese

**Title**: This Means War!  
**Author**: TWBasketcase  
**Rated**: T for minor language and talk of suicide.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Breakfast Club  
**Summary**: The challenge: Write a story about Brian (from his POV or in third person) set AFTER detention. The story should be about Brian and one other member of the Breakfast Club getting in trouble together. How this happens is up to you.

Guidelines:

1. it should be a one-shot, 500 words or more.  
2. It can be written for any genre (romance, drama, comedy, adventure, etc.).  
3. The story must be primarily about Brian and one other member of the BC (your choice).  
4. You have to post the story on this site, then report back to us so that we can enjoy your story.

**This Means War!**

People were pretty damn cruel…that was one thing that he knew for sure.

Sure he had deserved to be where he was, and sure it was making up for the costs of the damage he had inflicted on school property…but he wasn't sure if he would even wish this punishment on his worst enemy.

"Dork! I want some damn cheese!" said the hulking, burly football player in front of him.

Brian nodded his head solemnly and dunked the silver ladle in an equally silver pot of steaming hot, processed liquid cheese. It wasn't the most appealing sight he had seen; of course fatty foods like this were never served in the Johnson household. Nope, it was always very healthy three course meals cooked up there.

'_All the food groups are represented…did your mom marry Mr. Rogers?'_

Brian chuckled at the memory and was instantly knocked away from his thoughts when a low, menacing growl was erupted from the beast of a kid in front of him.

"You dropped my fucking cheese on my shoes, brainiac!"

Brian bit his lower lip and tried to rake his hand through his hair, forgetting about the hair net that was set in place, "Look buddy, um…I'm really sorry, you know…it was an accid…"

Before he could finish his sentence the larger boy's tray was thrown back over the counter at towards Brian – who just made it out of the way – and the football star slammed his hands down on the surface, "I want some new food, dammit!"

"Yes…right away."

As he began picking up the contents of the older boy's tray off of the tiled floor, Brian's thoughts drifted back to the day of the incident that landed him in here in the first place.

_His palms were very sweaty…in fact he never remembered ever being that wet from nerves. His face was pale all day and he had felt like he was ready to be hit by a garbage truck. In all of his life he never had felt the variety of emotions that he had felt that one day all bundled into one whirl pooling pit in his stomach._

_He had just found out the previous morning that his shop teacher, Mr. Ramsey, was failing him due to an incomplete project – a god damned ceramic elephant lamp. It was the first time in his life that he had ever handed in an incomplete project; it was the first time in his entire life that he had been told – by a teacher – that it was not good enough. It was the first time in his entire existence that he was told that he was going to fail._

_And to think that he originally took the class to maintain his honor level G.P.A. _

_He couldn't for the life of him comprehend how it happened. He couldn't quite pin point if he had forgotten something, or if he had wired it wrong, or just designed incorrectly. He had no idea where he had went wrong and for the first time ever he had felt a sense of loss, disappointment, and embarrassment. _

_Brian Johnson had officially lost the honor role, officially lost his G.P.A, officially lost his dignity, and officially lost the love and support of his over expecting parents._

_Of course they had no idea what was going on; not what happened yesterday and not what was going on right now._

_He held the medium sized, olive green box tightly in his hands as he stood in front of his locker; gaze frozen solid on the object. There wasn't anything particularly special about the box…it was what the box had held inside._

_His dad was a boater. Every summer they went down to Lake Michigan to go boating for – usually – one week. They had this great boat called the 'Point Dexter'; it had a cabin in the bottom with three beds…one double and a set of bunk beds. His whole family – his parents, himself, and his sister – would spend the entire week on the boat singing, fishing, swimming, tubing and other fun activities that weren't too dangerous. Being on the boat was the only time of the year that there really wasn't any fighting amongst his parents and the children. It was the only time of the year that he felt peace and liberty. _

_So when he felt lost and alone the only place he could think to go is into his father's double garage and into the boat with the large blue cover over the roof. He sat in the driver's seat of the boat for many moments until he reached into a small compartment next to the ignition and pulled out the box._

_He had stared at the box for a few more moments before he decided to sneak it into the house. His parents had been doing the dishes in the kitchen at the time, so it was no problem getting it upstairs into his bedroom._

_After he had the door shut behind him he felt an odd sense of excitement and exhilaration. He had snuck an object – a weapon – from his peaceful place and into his bedroom and under his bed._

_His parents never even knew._

_He hardly slept a wink that night knowing that the object was in his closet. He almost felt like it was calling out to him…calling him a sneak, a coward, a failure. The mere presence of the object haunted him to no end; for the only moment throughout the entire ordeal he had gotten over his fear and resentment of his mother and father only to replace it with sympathy. They were going to get the call that he was dead, they were going to have to pay for his funeral, and they were going to have to tell all of their upscale friends that yes, it was their son – the failure – who painted the bathroom stall at school with his brains. _

_Yes, at least he ended it all in the place he 'loved' most._

_And of course from that thought the fear and resentment had returned replacing all of the sympathies that he had left._

_And now he stood in the hallway at school, walking away from his locker where the medium sized, green box sat. It sat in the small compartment taunting and haunting his thoughts. He had taken it out of the box once that morning to get a good look and feel of it…only to have to shove back in there as quickly as possible to not have gotten caught by his snoopy little sister._

_First and second period flew by like it was nothing. Third period had gone by a little longer. In fourth period, the seconds went by like hours. _

_Lunchtime was next and he had everything planned out. He was going to go to his locker, put his books away, go eat lunch with his friends, 'visit' the bathroom and go ahead with his plan. He just wanted to see his friends one last time before he did it; and give David his Swiss rolls that he owed him from last week._

_When he had gotten to his locker that was when all hell had broken loose. He left class a few moments early to get to the cafeteria fast. He was the only child in the hallway at the time; only one man at the end of the hallway…a janitor._

_He opened his locker quickly and dropped his backpack at the bottom of the locker with a thud. He turned his back momentarily to get a drink from the fountain just across the hall when the explosion went off. It sent him to the floor._

_Not from impact, but from pure freezing fear._

_He remembered the pounding footsteps from the janitor running towards him, and the doors from all of the classrooms opening to see what all the fuss was about._

_He remembered the janitor repeatedly asking him his name, and if he was okay._

_The janitor told him that he would be fine…and that his name was Carl. Carl was going to help him clean up the mess. Mr. Ryan from room 206 had come over from the classroom three doors down on the left to investigate. _

_That was when he had found the ceramic elephant, his back pack, and then underneath…the gun._

_He must have left the safety off or something when he had pulled the gun out of the box that morning. The force of the impact of his back pack landing on the box must have triggered it off. And of course this was all he could think about now that the lunch bell had rang and he was sitting on the floor surrounded by a friendly janitor, a furious teacher, curious onlookers, and the charred remains of all of his belongings and that damned elephant that had started everything in the first place._

_He had been sent to the principal's office for the remainder of the day until his father had come and picked him up. He had been reprimanded with two Saturday detentions and a job in the cafeteria at lunch time serving food to students in order to pay for the damages done._

_One good punishment…and one disgustingly disturbing punishment._

He put the remainder of the tray's contents right side up and then disposed of them into the garbage container to his right. He looked back up at the hungry jock, "What would you like now?"

The now very hungry and very angry jock had rolled his eyes and slammed his fists down on the counter, "The EXACT THING I ordered before pip squeak! Now get movin'!"

Brian nodded his head and began rapidly trying to remember what exactly it was the boy had ordered before he had gone drifting off into dream land. There was the cheese…yes; the cheese is what started everything.

Brian slowly looked up at the boy when he placed the cheese onto the tray, "What did you want with your cheese, sir?"

The boy's face turned an unnaturally shade of red, "You little freak! Are you stupid or something? I outta come over that counter and pound you a new one!"

"You aren't gonna jump over any counter and give anyone a new anything!"

Brian had never been so happy to hear the voice of his ever heroic – and strong – friend, Andrew Clark.

The jock turned towards Andy and his face had instantly lost the red color and scowl, "Huh?"

He looked at Brian and smiled, "You working as a lunch lady Bry?"

Brian scratched the back of his head and blushed a bit, "Well I…"

"Well you nothin' you incompetent idiot, get me my damn mashed potatoes and chicken!"

Andy cocked an eyebrow, "Brian don't tell me you are getting hassled over fucking potatoes!" He began laughing that hyena like infamous laugh of his.

"Shut up Clark!" The other boy bellowed.

That was when Andy got angry. Andy didn't like to be told what to do, let alone put in his place. He had a temper that way.

He reached over the counter and into Brian's bowl of mashed potatoes and grabbed two large handfuls and plopped them onto the boy's plate – also hitting a nearby group of pot heads and some cheerleaders – a chorus of 'ew's' and 'that's gross'' soon following.

He then grabbed a handful of chicken legs – much to Brian's horror – and squished them into the middle of the boy's awfully unappetizing pile of mashed potatoes. Topping it off with the cheese…which conveniently – and once again – dripped over the tray and onto Mr. Big shot's new pair of shoes.

Surprisingly the bigger boy said nothing to Andy (who looked like he was getting extremely hungry himself) and only looked at Brian with sheer anger in his eyes, "Now look what you have done! My new shoes are fucked, and I have no fucking lunch! You're dead!"

"Come on I'm getting hungry over here!" Came a voice from a few places down in the line.

Just when he was about to slam the tray down on the counter and grab Brian by the collar of the shirt, Andy had flipped the tray over into the boy's chest eying Brian to follow in his lead. Even though he knew he could get into some trouble, there were two things that Brian and Andy had learned in detention the day that they had met:

1) Not to let people run all over them.

2) Let loose, because, what's bizarre? They're all a little bizarre and if they couldn't think for themselves and have a little fun then they were going to be trapped in a miserable life forever.

So Brian did the only logical thing he could think to do at that point in time. He grabbed a handful of potatoes and a bowlful of cheese and threw it in front of him. Some hitting the mean boy, some hitting Andy, and some hitting a table of girls behind them.

And of course the stoners nearby being the stoners that they were had to yell 'food fight!' and the whole place erupted into a mess. Brian and Andy bailed quickly though, laughing the entire way out into the parking lot.

And of course Andrew was right there beside him in the cafeteria the next week serving chili fries and lasagna. Both boys having to clean the mess they started, and having to sit in detention – once again – and repay the school for any 'psychological damage' inflicted…or so they said. What mashed potatoes had to do with psychological trauma was beyond their knowledge.

All was well with the new job until one John Bender encountered them in line.

They put the first food fight to shame.

**The End**


	2. Andy, Athletic Tape, and Potatoes

**Title**: This Means War!  
**Author**: TWBasketcase  
**Rated**: T for talks of violence, suicide, and swearing.  
**Chapter Summary**: From Andy's POV as he joins Brian, with a flashback to one of his less prideful moments.  
**A/N**: Okay I lied, so it isn't a one shot. That's okay though. I decided that I could actually keep going with this. But what I decided is that is was only going to be a three part, and only contain our favorite Breakfast Club boys: Brian, Andrew, and Johnathon. So I hope you guys like it, please read and review.

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**Chapter 2 – Andy, Athletic Tape, and Potatoes**

Andy looked over at Brian and smirked; they had been serving food to the Shermer High School student population for the last hour. It was only his second day on the job, but it was Brian's fifth. Initially, it was Brian's job for destroying his locker and serving food was his way for paying for it. But Andy had to get involved and now here he was standing in an apron and a hair net.

Now, if this was one month ago, Andrew definitely would not be impressed with his situation. If this was one month ago, Andrew would have been standing in Vernon's office pleading with the vice principal to let the star wrestler loose…for wrestling practice or something.

Brian smiled back at him in return; Andy thought that Brian was a good kid. He may get nervous or shy easily, and may prefer math questions over beer drinking, and science fairs over girlfriends, but Andy liked him. He had a good head on his shoulders and knew what he wanted to do with himself. The two boys had a lot in common where their overbearing parents were concerned, and the way they both competed to be the best – whether it was academically or physically was beside the point.

The two boys had met in detention. At first sight, Andy thought that the younger boy was too immature and geeky for his liking. His clothes looked like his mother had them laid out on the bed waiting for him that morning, and he had stated proudly that he was a member of the physics club…

And the math and Latin clubs.

Andrew couldn't think of anything geekier. After all, he had only taken part in wrestling meets, gym classes, weight lifting and pep rallies - things that strong, popular guys took part in; events where all the school's most beautiful girls came out to see them. He was pretty much the main event at school…whereas Brian was at the bottom of the totem pole.

He would be the first person to admit how ignorant and arrogant it sounded. At the beginning of that Saturday detention that _was_ the way he thought. But after a bout of insane dance moves – door breaking included – and marijuana smoking, they began to talk to each other and open up just a little bit more. The little bit more turned into Andy bawling his eyes out about his dad and weaknesses; confessing to the group – Brian included – his crimes committed against one Larry Lester…a boy from Brian's group.

Surprisingly to Andy, Brian didn't insult him…or accuse him or judge him based on his actions. He just listened silently about what it was he had to say. And when Andy had finished, Brian took his turn and bawled about the way he hated himself, and they way his parents looked at him. He confessed the crime he was prepared to of taken part in, almost ending it all for himself.

Two totally different situations, two exact same sob stories.

Andy could not believe how much he had held in common with the younger brainiac. He had learned to respect the kid for who he was and what he put up with everyday. Not only what he put up with from his parents everyday, but what he put up with from people like him: big, mean, popular, and nasty.

That was why he had stepped up and stuck up for him three days ago in the cafeteria. He had been sitting at a table with some sports and a few girls. He was getting ready to dig into his sandwich – hadn't even taken a bite yet – when he saw one of the football players hassling him. He figured that the boy would tease him a bit and then be on his way.

But that was not the case.

The football player was extremely angry and looked as if he was ready to hop over the counter and strangle poor Brian. So Andy felt a bit of de ja vu at that exact moment; he wanted to prevent something from happening that could have traumatized Brian forever. Andy had known that look that the jock boy was giving Brian; it was almost identical to the one he had plastered on his face when he had attacked Larry.

* * *

_The events from the night before had been swirling in his head. It was the first match of the season and he had faced Jason Townsend in the main event; Jason was about three inches taller than him, but a lot lankier. He had faced the taller boy before…last year in the state championships quarter final match up. Jason was a pretty solid wrestler, but he was not as dangerous on the ground as Andy was. Andy was quick – and volatile – he had people pinned beneath him before they could even figure out what had hit them._

_The match up with Jason had lasted a little longer than expected. Andy's knee was dislocated four weeks prior to the match and he was still working on strengthening it. The knee was his only downfall this time…only taking a bit of his speed away from him._

_He still managed to out grapple Jason, and finish him off with a side suplex. The match clocked in at 3:05. Andy's usual match time was 1:58. _

_To say that his dad had been unimpressed would be a complete understatement. His dad always watched everything he did with complete focus and concentration. His father had been a wrestler once in high school and college, but failed as a competitor when he shattered his ankle in a car accident. The old man had been driving around with some drunken college buddies and they wrapped themselves around a pole. The driver and front seat passenger had both died, and his friend next to him in the back seat lost complete use of his lower body; his dad, Tony, came out with a shattered tibia and fibula, along with a third degree concussion, whiplash, and a broken nose. He had been lucky to say the least._

_Tony Clark never gave up on his wrestling dream. He still attended all of the school matches, and even made his dream come true with his second child, and first son, Andrew. Andrew was going to have all the dreams and success that Tony lost. Andrew was going to be even more successful than Tony had ever been._

_That was what Tony told Andy day after day; that he was going to be the star the he had born and bred. Like a god damned machine – or clone – he was going to finish the old man's unfinished business._

_At first the prospect of wrestling was exciting for Andrew. It was a sport that took extreme hand eye coordination, speed and agility. Wrestling was also a way to channel any pent up energy or aggression. Wrestling was, in a sense, the perfect sport for Andy._

_Years passed and high school came around. Wrestling was not just a fun competition any more, wrestling was now everything; his ticket in life to strength, success – a scholarship. His father worked in a car part factory and his mother stayed at home with his younger sisters, and babysat part time for other working mothers. They were barely middle class and a scholarship was his only way to college…either that or years of working off student loans._

_Every move and match Andy performed was under the microscope that was Tony's eyes. He would pin point every wrong move, spot, and formation. Any step out of the circle or pin fall on him would earn him extra hours in training._

_He was the only kid on the team that had the coach's phone number on speed dial – at home._

_Wrestling had quickly consumed his life. No longer had he been able to go out with his friends as much – only on weekends – and girlfriends were even harder to maintain. At seventeen years old friends and girlfriends were more important than life itself; what kind of girl would want to date a guy that 'preferred' to pump iron than take her out. Every girl was the same…he never had enough time for them._

_Tony always told him he would find a better one anyways. Any girl that was worth it, he'd say, would stick around and let him put his needs first. He'd say that girls needed to be put in their place – second._

_Of course Andrew didn't feel that way. He yearned for the freedom and friendships that the other kids had. He yearned for the life where he wasn't constantly criticized and hardened. He didn't want to be the mindless machine that his father wanted; he had wants and needs, weaknesses._

_Andy had snapped back into his surroundings and realized that he was still in the locker room. He was still sitting on the locker room bench half dressed and staring into his gym bag. His shoes were littered under his feet, yet to be put on and tied. His t-shirt sat to his left on the bench in a rolled up ball. The only thing sitting in his bag was his athletic tape; the only thing that kept his knee from giving. _

_His stupid knee was what started the whole dilemma last night at the match. His father did not like – at all – how long it had taken him to beat Townsend. He thought that Andrew's speed had stunk and that his suplex performed at the end of the match had been botched. He hated every little thing about his performance._

_Andrew had told his father that his knee was bothering him again. He told him that he was working around it as much as he could, and that given a few more weeks he would be back in top shape._

"_But you should be in top shape now, Andrew!" his father had bellowed. "You are letting petty weakness get to you! You're intensity is for shit!"_

"_But I won the match, dad! I won!"_

_His father had glared and clutched the steering wheel tighter, "You're damn lucky you did boy! I won't tolerate losers in this family! You will win! You will always win!"_

_He had let his father down again. He had put all of his effort into the fight and had even come out on top. But that wasn't good enough…he had let weakness get to him._

_A locker door creaking open had pulled him from his thoughts. A few rows down was a boy from his gym class…Larry Lester. He was about as tall as Andy, but not as nearly as built. He was skinny, weak. He couldn't even bench press 65 pounds in the weight room. He always came in last in their running exercises. It was obvious he was only taking gym because it was a mandatory credit. One gym and you get your high school diploma._

_Larry made him angry. Larry always came in last and Larry never lifted as much as the other boys did. Gym wasn't even a jock class. Everyone had to take it. And Larry couldn't even do as good in the class as the other kids who weren't jocks. Hell, Larry couldn't even tag someone out in dodge ball._

_But Andy knew that it didn't bother Larry that much. Larry just had to get a grade and he was fine. Larry wasn't going to get punished by his father if he didn't get an A+ in gym. Larry wasn't going to be pushed until he threw up because his father didn't expect a mindless athlete out of him. Larry was weak and a loser. Larry didn't have to train day after day. Larry was nothing._

_Andy was everything. Andy had to be strong and Andy had to be a winner. Andy wished that - just once – Larry had to endure what he did for being weak. That he had to take an endless beating to his body…that he had to shut off his emotions and be what everyone else expected him to be. Andy wanted to take that from him. Just for that split second he wanted that happy kid to feel all of the pain and humiliation that he felt everyday._

_Andy stared at the smaller boy with his hate and rage building up. Larry must have noticed Andy sitting there…staring at him…while he changed. He could see a hint of embarrassment in his face as he stood there in his pathetic tighty whities._

_Larry cleared his throat quietly, "That was a pretty tough gym class, huh?"_

_Andy narrowed his eyes, "All we did was play basketball, dork."_

_Larry chuckled nervously, "Well it sure was a lot of running…"_

_He didn't get to finish; Andy didn't want to hear the rest of his pathetic bullshit excuses. The boy was weak and if running back and fourth in a half size gym dribbling a basketball was hard for this boy then he had another thing coming. Andy lunged on the boy faster than he could figure out what had hit him._

_His body had hit the gym bench hard and landed awkwardly on the floor. Andy could tell right away that he wasn't in the same weight class. He had to have been at least thirty-five pounds lighter – if not more – and a lot more fragile. The boy had screamed as soon as Andy made contact with him. He was sweating profusely and all of his body hair felt nasty against Andy's grasp._

_Without thinking, he instantly pantsed the boy and laughed out loud. At least he knew he had more than just strength to prove he was more of a man than Larry was. He was smaller in more places than just his mass. Larry was pathetic. Larry was worthless._

_Andy laughed once again and flipped the boy over so that he was face down on the floor and had one arm twisted behind his back. "What's wrong, Larry? Where is that intensity? It's shit…that's all! You loser!" Andy screamed at the wriggling boy in rage. He could think of nothing but his father screaming in his ear. When his father had him down on the ground and it was his hot, menacing breath tickling his ear. Now Larry was going to feel it…he was going to know exactly what it was like._

_He grabbed his athletic tape and straddled the boy's hips backwards. He kicked and screamed, but with Andy's perseverance and training, Larry had no chance of freeing himself. The jock won._

_He unraveled the sticky tape as fast as he could and began sticking it all over Lester's ass. At the time, he wasn't quite sure as to why he had chosen that particular body area but he did. There was hair everywhere and he knew that it was going to kill the pathetic boy when he had to peel it off. The sissy would probably cry._

_He taped and taped and he hadn't noticed the jumbled mess of tape he had stuck on there until three sets of hands pulled him off. Larry was screaming and his face was a bright shade of red. Wet streaks were all over his face and drool was slipping down the side of his chin. Andy growled in satisfaction; he knew that pussy would cry._

"_How does it fucking feel Larry?" He screamed in his face._

"_Clark!" And instantly he was cut from his thoughts. He looked around and noticed a few boys and a teacher helping Larry – who looked like he was wearing a fucked up looking diaper – and his classmates standing around him. His friends were holding back laughs and silently cheering him, while others looked at him with shock, disapproval, and horror._

"_Clark!" Came the deep and enraged voice; Andy actually felt scared. He was out of control._

"_Get to Vernon's office now! What in the fuck did you do?" He looked at his gym teacher, he was seething. His face was almost purple and his eyes were wide. He stood menacingly with his arms flailing widely and a clipboard in his hand. His whistle bounced violently against his chest._

_Andy just nodded his head and grabbed his gym bag. He felt sick to his stomach when a few of the guys slapped him on the back as they laughed on. Andy could not believe that he had lost control…more weakness._

_He threw his gym bag strap over his shoulder and began to make his way out of the room. He pushed past all of the bodies that stood grouped in front of him. They all shared a variety of different masks, but each one was directed at him. A lot of them were negative…but what made him sick was that even more were in approval of what he had done…like he was a fucking martyr or something. He was no better than his old man._

_He passed the row of lockers and noticed another group of bodies on the other side. He watched as three students and a teacher were pulling the tape off of Larry. What was left was not the healthy pink, hairy skin. But a scolding red and bald patch. Dozens of them. Larry was crying and almost screaming hysterically every time they touched him._

"_Larry, I am going to call your father, son…" The teacher said gently._

"_No…please…don't…" Larry cried between sobs. At that exact second Andy felt more horrible than he had in his entire life. He wanted to set himself on fire…or kill himself as gruesomely as possible. _

_The teacher shook his head in a confusing manner, "Son…you're gonna have to go home…"_

_Larry just cried harder and hid his face in his hands in humiliation. And for the only time in the last five years Andy had felt tears. He felt saddened and remorseful…he fucking hated himself._

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"Andy!" 

He shook out of his thoughts and looked at Brian; the first thing he noticed was the massive spoon he was wagging at him, and then the mess of gravy and potatoes on his apron. He had the goofiest grin on his face and it actually made Andy chuckle, "What were you saying?"

Brian rolled his eyes and flailed the spoon wildly again, "I asked you which Star Wars was the best? I still say Empire Strikes Back!"

Andy scoffed, "Jedi!"

Brian was about to retort when a voice broke them from their 'argument', "Ahem?"

Andy turned around and looked at the short, older woman. She was awfully plump and had huge glasses. Andy cocked an eyebrow, "Uh…yeah?"

She glared, "I would like more potatoes please! Extra cheese and extra-extra gravy."

Andy turned to Brian with a confused look on his face, "What the hell is extra-extra?"

Brian shrugged, "It wasn't in the training manual…"

"Boys, please…I'm hungry right now and I really want to eat. Now."

Andy furrowed his eyebrows and scratched his head. He was about to retort when a laughing voice beat him to it, "It looks to me you have enough meat under yer shirt to last you a couple of months."

Brian snorted loudly and the lady just scoffed, "Excuse me young man, but I was in line first!" She had her hands on her hips and Andy couldn't help but stare at the large, hanging piece of flab under her chin that jiggled when she talked. He wasn't sure if it disgusted him or just straight up weirded him out.

"I don't see a line here actually…just you and the lunch ladies." The long haired boy retorted with a look of mock seriousness.

Brian dumped four ladles full of cheese and gravy onto the potatoes and handed them to her. She took them and stormed off in a huff without paying.

"Shoplifter!" Bender screamed and pointed at the fatter woman's retreating back, with one hand cupped over his mouth. He shook his head in disbelief, "Never get in between a fat girl and her lunch. Jeez." He looked up at the two boys with a look of anticipation.

Andy shook his head in confusion, "What?"

Bender rolled his eyes, "You guys ready to get the fuck outta here or what?"

Brian looked at Andy, "Please?"

Andy looked back at Brian and sighed, "You know they'll keep us here another couple of days…"

Brian shrugged and removed his hair net, "Oh well…another couple of days couldn't kill us…"

Bender and Brian stared at Andy like two little boys waiting for their father to push them on the swings. In a way it made Andy want to smack their heads together…but in a way made him want to laugh out loud. He shrugged and grabbed a fistful of semi-cold lasagna and a fistful of chocolate pudding, "Why the hell not."

John nodded in approval, "Sir, you won't be disappointed."

_**TBC**_

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**A/N 2**: Well that was fun wasn't it? Anyways I just wanted to say happy belated Canada day to all of my fellow canucks...and I guess (it's July 4th, right?) Happy Independence Day to all you Americanos. I am only going to have one more part of this story before it is finished, and that will be Bender's. So please R&R and tell me what you think! You likey? You no likey? Just tell me! 


	3. Bender, Breaking, and Banana Cream Pie

**Title**: This Means War!  
**Author**: TWBasketcase  
**Rating**: T for language, violence, talks of intended suicide, and drug use.  
**Summary**: Final chapter from Bender's POV. Why he stepped up and got the boys out of their lunch lady dilemma.  
**A/N**: Well this is the final piece; I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I did writing. To answer the questions: No there will be no girls or romance in this story. Just a friendly boy fic with a look into their heads; I think without the romance there is a better grasp on their characters. So here it is, please read and review!

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**Chapter 3 – Bender, Breaking, and Banana Cream Pie**

John watched the two boys from across the room. They had been sitting there talking to each other for the last hour or so. At times, it looked as if the conversation was fun, but for the most part it looked as though the boys were in clear thought; like they would rather be anywhere but there.

John knew the feeling.

He looked back down at the table he was sitting at. It was an old wooden table, painted white, with the bench attached underneath. There was all sorts of bubble gum stuck to it; green, white, purple, pink…it was a like a rainbow – except it was chewed up and spit out. The thing that was most noticeable to him though was that it was empty. Some of his friends had stolen some burgers from the stand earlier – so to the left and right of him there were balled up tin foil wrappers. There were also some ketchup packages, empty pop cans, and napkins…but the spot in front of him was empty.

It was always empty.

John was very hungry. He never brought a lunch from home; if he got caught doing that he would either be ordered to pay for it, or ordered to bring it back and get smacked. Food was there for his father's supper…and it wasn't like they had anything very school-lunch friendly anyways. Just canned food, frozen meat pies, coffee, and beer. What was he going to do? Wait for it to thaw out on the cafeteria table?

He scowled and watched the two boys again. He could feel the resentfulness building up inside of him. He could feel the need to get away…or do something fun…anything to get rid of his bitter feelings.

He rubbed his face and swore as a piece of garbage hit his face. He glared at Jordan, his friend of six years, "Why the fuck did you do that?"

Jordan laughed stupidly, "It kinda just hit you man…I couldn't help it!"

Bender raised his eyebrows and placed his arm down on the table in front of him, "Oh yeah? Is that so? Did the garbage just stand up and jump on my face then?"

Jordan looked at Mark and then back to John, "Yeah…somethin' like that."

Bender rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I'm real sure, asshole."

His friends just ignored him and went back to whatever nonsensical conversation they were having before. It was the same old shit everyday. They go to first period and gawk at Miss Hawkins, their extremely hot geography teacher. They go to second period, give Mr. Summers a hard time in Math. They go to third period, do some wood cutting in shop class. They skip fourth period altogether and go back out to the bleachers to get high. Then they come to lunch…he gets hungry, and they talk about some stupid shit that happened at Ryan's house the other night. It was the same damn routine everyday.

Bender hated routines.

But what could he do about it? Every single time he felt like he needed to get away, or do something daring, he got caught. Then he got in trouble. Then he was sitting in detention - again. It turns back into another never ending circle of events. High school was such a bore. He could never understand how people would say it was the best time of their lives. Those people were full of fucking shit.

Sure getting in trouble was fun – at times. Sometimes the things he did to get him there were so worth it that he would go back and do it again in a heartbeat. But what was left to do? He already had the vice-principal, the principal, the bus driver, his teachers, his peers, and even his guidance councilor constantly pissed off at him. He couldn't keep a girlfriend, his friends only seemed to come around if there was a party, or booze, or drugs. They never really just wanted to hang out with him, or even get in trouble with him. It was always about getting fucked up. He didn't mind getting fucked up, but sometimes he wondered if his friends would still even be around if he didn't have the quarter ounce in his pocket…well, maybe Jordan would be.

Jordan had been his friend for six years now. He lived a few houses down from his, so they met when they were younger children. Bender would go over there if his parents got a bit out of line, or if he needed something to eat; Jordan's parents were pretty nice, even if they were drunk all the time. Jordan's parents were nice drunks…not like John's were.

John's parents drank every night. His mother didn't work. She just liked to go to bingo and spend all their money all the time. His father worked at a construction site and would already be half drunk when he got home from work. John wasn't sure why his father's boss never cared…all the boys his old man worked with liked to have a drink when work ended. So big Bender would come home half drunk looking for his six pack. His mother would hand it off to the older man, and pull out a bottle of wine for herself.

Usually his parents left him alone to do his own thing. They didn't bother him and he didn't bother them – most of the time. It was when they both got piss drunk and they started fighting…babbling nonsensical insults at each other in such a long chain that they stopped making sense. And it was when his father would smack his mother or go too far with his verbal abuse that John would step in. Then his old man would teach him a thing or two for mouthing back. It was the same routine all the time.

He was so fucking sick of routines.

"So you wanna go outside for a smoke, boys?" He heard Mark ask – just like he did everyday. All of the boys nodded and replied with agreement. Bender just stared at the two boys on the other side of the room, "No."

They didn't ask why, they just stood up and left like they didn't give a shit less if he was there. John didn't care though…he wanted to sit at the table instead today…no he wanted to do something else today.

He looked back at the two boys and watched their expressions. Brian was staring lazily into a hot pot of something, and stirring it around unconsciously. Andy just sat there and stared out into the cafeteria…as if he was in deep thought. John looked back down at his hands…and then down at the empty table in front of him.

That sense of needing to escape returned.

* * *

_He woke up that morning not feeling very well. He had spent the whole night before getting sick, sneezing, and blowing his nose. It was the first time in a long time that he was actually getting sick from genuine illness rather then from being fucked up. His stomach lurched, he had cramps, and his head was pounding like a wrecking ball. _

_And that was just the start to a really shitty day._

_He hadn't planned on going to school; he was just going to stay in bed and sleep the illness off. He had gotten back to bed and pulled the covers up to his shoulders, and rested his head into the soft pillows. Once his eyes closed he began hearing loud banging._

"_John!" It was his mother's voice. He tried to ignore it; acting like he had already left for school, but it was to no avail._

"_JOHN!" came the calling, a lot louder this time._

"_Yeah, mom?" He called out groggily._

"_Get up for school!" She opened the door and stepped inside his bedroom. He watched her silently as she stood with her arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her face._

"_Mom…I'm sick, I'm gonna stay home…"_

"_To hell you are!" She said with anger. John could remember vividly the way her nose and forehead had scrunched up when she said it._

_John sat up slowly and rubbed his head, which was pounding twice as bad at that point, "Why the hell not?" he had complained._

"_Because that prick Vernon called – again – yesterday. You were skipping – again!" She unfolded her arms and was waving her hands around for emphasis with every word, "He said that if you weren't going to show up for school again that we would have to have a 'meeting' regarding the consequences…and I don't have time for that kind of shit!"_

_Bender rolled his eyes and slowly shook his head, "Yeah, you don't have time to meet with my school teachers…that's rich, ma."_

_She scowled, "Knock it off Johnny! You ain't faking illness with me! Now get your ass up and go to school!"_

_John coughed and glared at her, "And just what if I don't anyways?"_

_She narrowed her eyes and challenged him, "Then I will just have to tell your father that HE has to go to the meeting with Vernon…and YOU can deal with HIM. And if that ain't enough then you can just get the hell out…if your not gonna go to school." She scowled again, "There is no way you are hanging around my house all day like a bum!"_

_Bender was about to fight back, but changed his mind. He was just going to get it worse if his father got involved. Since he had no place else to go so early in the morning, he went to school._

_The walk to school was awful; it was late March and Illinois was not very warm. Snow covered the ground and wind whipped at his face. He could not control the sick snot dripping down his nose, nor could he control his ragged breathing as the cold air hit the back of his throat. It didn't get any better when he walked over a patch of ice and fell down either. He tried to catch himself, but only ended up twisting his legs around and hurting his knee._

_So now he was sick, he was cold, he had to go to school, and his knee hurt like a bitch._

_When he entered the school he scowled. The bell had rung and he was late. As good looking as Miss Hawkins was, he did not want to have to deal with her screeching voice so early in the morning. Sure enough once he had climbed the steps leading to the second floor of the school and entered her classroom, all activity within had stopped. The preppy girls at the front of the room glared at him, and the teacher had her hands on her waist, "Nice to see you join us Mr. Bender."_

_John rolled his eyes and only took his seat. That wasn't a very good gesture – according to Miss Hawkins – and she let him know that, "You will not walk away from me, young man! I come here on time every day to do you a favor, to teach you things you need to know in order to have a good education! And you just don't care!" She folded her arms over her inflated chest and glared more, "You are so arrogant young man! You need to learn some respect. So just for that you can read page 326 out of the text book!"_

_He hadn't brought his book to class and was yelled at some more when he asked the girl next to him for her book. His throat hurt and his head was throbbing…and reading small text on a bright, white sheet of paper did not go so well for him. By the time he was finished reading the page his classmates were snickering about how retarded he was and even his teacher was rolling her eyes._

_He slept through most of second period that day, which was okay because it – almost – made him feel better. He made his way towards the boy's bathroom to once again blow his nose._

_His feet made squeaking noises as he entered the small room; they were still soaking wet from the long walk to school. He stepped in front of the mirror and frowned; he looked like he got hit by a garbage truck. He looked down into the white sink below him, and snorted up as much mucous as he could muster, and spit it into the sink. It was a bright yellow/green color, which indicated his sickly health. He looked at the gob with disgust for a few seconds before the door behind him flew open._

"_Well there's the stupid bastard now!" came a loud, deep voice behind him._

_He turned around and sighed loudly, folding his arms across his chest. It was Rick Arnold…a big, dumb jock from the football team. He remembered doing something to piss him off last week. "What the fuck do you want, jockstrap?"_

_The boy just scowled, an image mirrored by the three other boys standing behind him. Rick just rolled up his sleeves, "Oh I was just thinking about how you were bothering Mary-Anne last week, scum bag."_

_Bender hesitated for a moment; Mary-Anne? He thought quickly about who the hell Mary-Anne was…hot brunette from English class. He was throwing spit balls at her in class…and made it a mission to get them down her shirt…and asking her if her nipples could cut glass when they got that hard. She wasn't too impressed. Apparently dumbo wasn't either._

_Bender smirked, "Naw, she wasn't bothered. She liked it…"_

_He didn't finish, the boy shoved him hard against the wall, making a thick wad of spit shoot from his throat. The older boy just glared, "You wanna go, faggot?"_

_Bender could feel his head start to throb; what was he going to say? No, and then get beat up for being a pussy? Or yes and fall into the famous jock trap – call a guy on and get all of his friends to do the dirty work. His nausea was coming back and his eyeballs itched, "Fuck you…" was all he muttered before the boy grabbed him again. He threw him roughly back into the wall and kicked his feet out from under him. The other boys grabbed his arms and his legs so that he couldn't move. Rick – the obvious ring leader – just grabbed a fistful of hair and began to punch him in the stomach. His illness had began to swirl again, and he couldn't keep track of time at that point…all he remembered was them leaving, laughing, dumping the bathroom garbage on him, and then puking on the floor. He must have laid there – in the garbage and next to his own vomit – for a few minutes. Just until his head stopped throbbing and his stomach settled._

_He had attempted to get up too quickly and that sore knee from earlier gave out. His was able to reach his arm out and landed on it…but unfortunately his hand had landed in his vomit and slid out from underneath him. Once again he was on the floor._

_He had managed to get up after a few attempts – slowly but surely. He felt disgusted with himself and the way he was so weak. He wanted to go home. He wanted to get out of that piece of shit school and…_

…_the bell rang. He was late for third period._

… … …

_He made it out of shop class okay. It was his favorite class and his teacher didn't seem to mind because he actually worked hard in that class. Fourth period went by and once again – he had slept. The school day was half way over. He was pretty sure that he may make it out alive._

_He entered the cafeteria and sat at a table by the window. The smell of the food was making his insides shake with disgust, warning him that his stomach wasn't agreeing again. He put his head down on his arm and closed his eyes. He was really sick. He couldn't go home, not without having to deal with his mother and father. He couldn't just go to Jordan's…Jordan was at school. He sure as hell couldn't hang out outside…it was way too cold for a dude with the flu. Instead he had to stay at school with the shitty people, the shitty routine, and his shitty classes. Feeling ever so shitty._

"_Dude, why are ya laying in puke?" he snapped his head up at the sound of Jordan's voice. He was looking at him with a pure disgust on his face. Bender raised his eyebrows in confusion, "Huh?"_

_Jordan pointed at John's denim jacket, "You have barf all over your sleeve man!"_

_Bender turned his arm around, and sure enough, brown shit all over his best jacket. He groaned and clutched his stomach, "I'm outta here guys…catch ya later."_

_He got up from his seat and spun around to march out. His hair fell in front of his face and he clenched his teeth. He didn't care anymore…he was going to find a way to get out. He was getting so anxious; he could feel his chest tighten up, his mind scream at him…it was like he couldn't breath…he needed out. He rushed so quickly that he drove right into a dark haired girl dressed in black, holding her lunch tray in front of her. Of course, Bender had no idea who she was (at the time), nor did he care…he just kept charging until he was out of the cafeteria._

_When he reached the hallway the air felt cool again. The quiet had returned and his feelings of anxiety and claustrophobia had ceased for the time being. He raked his hands through his hair and looked around. His eyes settled on a red box on the wall._

_He didn't ask himself why. He didn't think of the consequences. He just knew that everyone would have to leave and he could sneak out unnoticed. All of that was fine with him until the loud piercing ring filled his ears and his head. John grabbed at his ears and clenched his teeth, willing the pain away. He watched as a parade of students filled the hallway and left out the front doors. Bender watched with a smile on his face, momentarily forgetting about any pain, and just relished in the sudden freedom. He was away from school, away from the assholes…away from the same damn shitty day over and over…_

_He spun around to leave and collided with a soft wall, "Not so fast Mr. Bender."_

_Busted by the one and only asshole himself…_

_Vernon had dragged John into his office and gave him detention. He yelled and turned bright red with anger. John didn't care. He sat in detention before. He'd pissed off Vernon before…nothing new. He sat back and listened and told old Dick he would see him tomorrow and left. Left out the office, out of the hallways, out of the school, and back to his house. He fell asleep and slept a straight 14 hours; eliminating his routine until detention the next day._

* * *

He watched the fat back in front of him grow bigger and bigger as he approached behind it. She was giving the lip to Big Bry and Sporto for not serving her food fast enough. He still couldn't believe the two clowns had to serve lunch to everyone…but he had to admit that the food fight they started last week had been superb. He watched with amusement as the two boys tried to figure out how exactly they needed to feed the huge woman. 

"It looks to me you have enough meat under yer shirt to last you a couple of months." Bender interrupted the group. Brian bit his lower lip to contain his laughter while Andrew couldn't take his eyes off of the disgusting women.

She babbled something or other to Bender about a line…and her being there first but Bender didn't buy it, "I don't see a line here actually…just you and the lunch ladies."

She huffed at him and pointed to her plate again, this time Brian poured her food on it. She walked away without paying; Bender smirked at this, cupped a hand over his mouth and screamed after her, "Shoplifter!" She didn't even as much look back in his direction, all though he did get a few strange looks from some students sitting nearby.

He looked back at his friends who were staring at him with amusement; he gave them a look of mock seriousness and put his hands on his hips, "Never get between a fat girl and her lunch. Jeez." He shook his head and stared at Andy with his eyebrows raised. Andy just looked confused, a stupid look Bender was familiar with from the blonde jock, "What?"

Bender rolled his eyes, "Are ya ready to get the fuck outta here or what?" He knew he was. Another day in hell it was, and he was ready to take his friends with him.

Brian and Bender waited with anticipation for Andy's reply. And when he picked up the food and shrugged his shoulders, Bender's mood lifted immediately, "Sir, you won't be disappointed!"

He reached over the counter and grabbed a large handful of banana cream pie and looked for his first target. When he saw an equally yellow colored suit with a cheap head of dyed hair on top of it he smiled. Andy gave him a nod of confirmation and they both threw the food in heaps…hitting the startled Vernon in the head. Brian ripped off his hair net and kneeled behind the counter as –once again- someone screamed out "Food Fight!"

The whole room erupted in a volcanic explosion of food. Vernon, only about twenty feet away, scowled at them, "You little pricks! I'm gonna beat ya until you're black and blue! You hear me?" He was hit in the mouth with a brownie. He wiped his faced and pointed at them, "I'm gonna knock your dicks in the dirt…so help me god when I get over there…"

Bender looked at Andy. He grabbed the rest of the pie, while Andy grabbed the entire tray of lasagna. Brian, finally standing up grabbed a large spoonful of mashed potatoes, "Oh…this means war, Dick!"

Bender laughed at the dork's choice of words and let the pie go on the older man. Once Vernon hit the ground with a food covered face the boys took a run for it. Sure they'd end up getting stuck behind the counter again, but hey? At least they got a break from their lives by having some fun together…something they had a hard time doing before that one Saturday detention. And if it took starting an all out war to get where they needed to be, so be it.

Bender liked starting trouble anyways…it broke him away from that boring routine.

**The End.**


End file.
